


When I Fall In Love, It Will Be Completely

by LillyWhitefield



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 10:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15362160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillyWhitefield/pseuds/LillyWhitefield
Summary: Patrick and Shelagh didn't really get a first date until they were engaged.They didn't really get to kiss, either.





	When I Fall In Love, It Will Be Completely

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching the 2013 Call the Midwife Children in Need performance (it's on youtube, if you want a full picture of their clothes), and I realized that the performance was performed in the period of time when Shelagh and Patrick were engaged in the show, but the Christmas special hadn't aired so they were not yet married. I then realized that they never really had a date before becoming engaged. I THEN realized that they probably didn't kiss, either. So, I thought, this performance is like their first date. They touch more in the four and a half minute performance than in all seven seasons. Anyway, that's where this idea came from. It's a bit cheesy, and super fluffy, but I like some cheese sometimes. It also got a little reflective at times, which I didn't expect but I think it fits for what they would've been thinking at the time. I hope you enjoy!

Shelagh was incredibly excited and uncomfortable. Her dress was unlike anything she’d worn in well over ten years, her shoes had heels of all things, and her hair was down and coated in a layer of hair lacquer that Trixie insisted was necessary on this breezy late fall evening. She probably would have never picked out her dress and shoes if she’d chosen them on her own, but she’d gone shopping with Cynthia, Trixie, and Jenny at their insistence once they’d pried out of her why she was acting so funny.

Patrick had asked her on a date. 

They were already engaged, but for nearly their entire courtship she’d been a nun, and only very briefly held hands and hugged. Even though they were to be married in a month and a half, he insisted that this was a very important part of a relationship that she should not have to miss out on. Shelagh almost wondered if he were doing more for himself than for her, but she didn’t dwell. 

Once he’d asked, she immediately went to Nonnatus House for a previously planned lunch with the midwives, only with the promise that the nuns were out. She still felt uncomfortable being around the nuns, especially Sister Julienne. She felt like she turned her back on them, and an immense guilt filled her every time she remembered. 

Upon arrival, the women immediately knew that something was up. They pestered her through the entire lunch, inquiring as to what was making Shelagh so red in the face and quiet. Eventually she relented, explaining that Patrick asked her to dinner and dancing next Saturday, and she had no idea what she needed to do to prepare. It what seemed like a flurry, their lunch was hurriedly finished, her coat was thrust upon her, and she was ushered out the door and into a cab on its way to a dress shop with the three other ladies. It’s lucky Shelagh and Cynthia were small or the ride would have been very cramped. 

The shop was overwhelming to Shelagh, with so many colors, fabrics, and designs to choose from, she was very glad of the help. Otherwise, she might have chosen some navy-blue linen out of familiarity and comfort. With much poking, pulling, and pushing, she was convinced to buy the shiny blue A-line dress; the color brought out her eyes, and showed off her slim figure. It fell only just below her knee, but the other midwives insisted that she was far too short for anything longer. The dress fit off the rack, so she didn’t need to have it tailored, further convincing her that it was the best dress for her. 

One more stop for shoes that matched the slightly lighter blue top part and sleeves, and a matching hairband, and she was outfitted for a dinner and dancing with her fiancé. The difficult part, however, was going to be spending so much time, nearly alone, and close enough to touch, with Patrick. Shelagh found Cynthia to be the most helpful, telling her to “not force anything, and do what feels right. Dr. Turner knows who you were before, he is a good man, and he won’t push you past where you’re comfortable.” Shelagh was going to do her absolute best to relax, and have fun with the man she loves. 

Shelagh stood in front of the full-length mirror in Trixie and Jenny’s room. She would have done just fine readying herself at her lodgings, but they were so excited when they asked if they could do her hair and makeup she could not find it in her to say no. She made it very clear that she did not want her hair to be too high, or her makeup to be too obvious, and she had to admit that they did an excellent job. Her hair was shiny, bouncy, and not too much of a bouffant, though it didn’t move much because of the hair lacquer. Her makeup was very light, only a bit of mascara, blush, and a light lipstick. The dress was slightly constricting in her waist, and the shoes were absolutely going to cause her feet to be in pain in less than an hour, but she could stand being a little uncomfortable since she looked, well, pretty. 

It was very strange for Shelagh to call herself pretty. It was a part of her that she had to deny for so long, that it was difficult for her to see herself in that way. She still liked to dress in plain, brown suits, with plain hair, and no makeup. Some of it was that she didn’t know the fashions anymore, but some of it was that she wasn’t aware of her own body, face or hair. It was difficult to see herself all dolled up, because for ten years she was not permitted to recognize her appearance. The change was strange to get used to. 

Trixie and Jenny were smiling at their work. “You look so wonderful, Shelagh. Dr. Turner is going to be at a loss for words,” Trixie said, almost shaking with excitement. 

“He may even faint! You look divine,” Jenny said, combing a stray hair into place with her fingers. Shelagh continued to fidget with the sleeves and hem of her dress. 

There was a knock on the front door downstairs that echoed down the large hallways. Shelagh jumped, startled. 

“Oh, he’s here!” Trixie exclaimed. 

“Here’s your bag, it’s got some extra rouge and lipstick in it, and a handkerchief should you need it,” Jenny rushed, passing her the blue clutch. 

“Here’s my coat, I insist you borrow it, it’s far too chilly for the light jacket you have,” Trixie said, pushing her black pea coat into Shelagh’s arms. 

Shelagh’s heart began to race faster, but she turned to the two women. “Thank you both, for all of your help. It means the world to me.”

“Anytime, Shelagh, you are family after all,” Trixie said, grasping one of Shelagh’s hands and giving it a quick squeeze. 

Cynthia gave a quiet knock on the door before opening it. “Shelagh, Dr. Turner is—”

“Yes, she’s coming! Good luck sweetie!” Trixie hushed before gently moving Shelagh to the doorway. 

Shelagh heard the click of her heels on the floor echoing through the halls. She still held the coat in her arms, in the hope that Patrick would see her and, indeed, be speechless. 

On her way through the halls, Cynthia having stayed behind with Jenny and Trixie, presumably to gossip, Shelagh almost ran into Sister Julienne when rounding a corner. 

“Oh! My dear, you look lovely! I heard about your date with Dr. Turner, he seems elated,” Sister Julienne said, gently touching Shelagh’s arm and looking in her eyes. 

“Um, yes, he seemed enthusiastic about going out for dinner, so I thought I would oblige him.”

“I would hope so, he’s to be your husband my dear Shelagh! I haven’t seen enough of you lately, I hope you don’t feel like you need to be a stranger.”

“Oh, um, of course not.”

Sister Julienne smiled warmly, releasing Shelagh’s arm. “Good. I’ll hold you up no longer. Your fiancé seemed anxious to see you.”

“Thank you, Sister. Have a wonderful evening,” Shelagh rushed. She hurried down the hall, heels clicking rapidly, still afraid to speak too freely with Sister Julienne. 

Already full of anxiety, the conversation only made it worse. Shelagh counted her steps in an effort to slow her heart, and before she knew it, she turned a corner to face Patrick. 

He was wearing a wonderful black suit, looking very dapper and handsome. She quickly noticed that his tie was new, a blue one that suspiciously matched her dress. 

He looked to her, and his jaw dropped, and then he smiled the widest she’s ever seen. 

“You look wonderful, Miss Mannion.”

She smiled unreservedly, and replied, “You clean up quite nicely as well, Dr. Turner.”

They were alone in the foyer. She moved closer to him, and he held out his hands and said, “Here, let me help you with your coat.”

She handed him the heavy wool, for Trixie was correct that it was very chilly outside, and he opened it up so she could slide her arms through the sleeves. Shelagh, forgetting that she was holding her clutch, tried to stick both arms through at the same time, and laughed nervously when her clutch got nearly stuck with her hand in her sleeve. Patrick very graciously chuckled, took her clutch with the hand that didn’t need to hold the coat anymore, and handed it back to her after her arm finally fit through the sleeve. 

Shelagh closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “You’ll have to forgive me if I make mistakes, I’ve never really done this before.” 

Patrick full on laughed, and grinned, “My dear, I’m not sure if it’s possible to make a mistake while on a date with one’s fiancé. This is practically new for me, too, remember. I don’t expect either of us to do anything past enjoy each other’s company tonight.”

Somehow, he always knew what to say to put her racing heart at ease. “Alright, then, I suppose we should get going?” Shelagh gestured toward the door. 

“Of course,” Patrick said as he grabbed the door handle and held the door open for Shelagh. Shelagh smiled and looked straight into his eyes as she passed through, Patrick following close behind. 

Shelagh could hear quiet giggling from a window above as Patrick opened the door to his car for her, but she made a serious effort to not look up. Patrick closed her door, moved around to the other side, and slid into the car in front of the wheel. As he started the engine, he said, “I hope you like Italian food?”

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The ride to the restaurant was almost awkward, but while Shelagh stayed silent when she was nervous, Patrick seemed to be unable to turn his mouth off. Shelagh didn’t even remember what he talked about, just inserting a few, “Oh”-s, and some, “Yes”-s, and occasionally some approving noises. He watched the road the whole time, but she watched the lights from outside flash and slide across his face as they drove. She was still in disbelief that this handsome, kind, thoughtful man would want to marry her, a small, plain, ex-nun. His eyes sparkled when he talked so passionately, and when he glanced at her at an intersection, she couldn’t help but smile wide. 

The restaurant was lovely. There was valet parking out front, and it had been so long since Shelagh drank a good red wine that the date was already worth the anxiety. The room was mostly lit by candles, and the flickering light lent itself to a surprisingly romantic mood, something Shelagh was not very familiar with. The food was fantastic, and they talked exuberantly over pasta and bread. Work hardly ever came up, surprisingly; they talked a little about Tim, but mostly they discussed what they loved, their childhoods, and eventually the conversation moved toward their impending marriage.

“Have you planned anything for the ceremony yet?” Patrick asked.

Shelagh thought, and then replied, “The ceremony will be at the church, of course, but I suppose I haven’t thought through much else. I still have to think of flowers, my dress, who to invite, and a reception, if I even want one—”

“Well of course you want one! What do you mean by that Shelagh?” Patrick asked, tearing off a piece of bread and eating it. 

“I mean, I don’t know if there will be enough people to warrant a full reception. I wanted something small, only a few close friends,” Shelagh responded, starting to close in. She picked at the bread, eating very small pieces. 

“If that’s what you really want, my dear. I would be happy with anything as long as I get to marry you, but don’t feel that you can’t have a big, picturesque wedding because of who you were,” Patrick spoke softly. “I know people are talking, but I love you,” Patrick released his wine stem and grasped her left hand that was resting on the table, “and when I look in your eyes, everyone else falls away. You and Tim are the most important people to me, and I would do anything to protect you and make you happy.” 

Shelagh smiled, slightly embarrassed. “I love you, Patrick. Tim, too. I’m just, not sure what I want right now. I feel like I’m trying to find who I am again, and I don’t know if that involves any part of who I was, like Sister Julienne, and Sister Evangelina. I think I just need time,” she muttered, looking up at Patrick through her eye lashes. 

“Well, hopefully it involves dancing, because that’s stop number two tonight,” Patrick declared, standing up from his chair, and quickly moving behind Shelagh to pull her chair out for her. She smiled, and grabbed his arm as he led them to the coat check and valet. Patrick instinctively knew when there was nothing he could really say, because it wasn’t his place. Shelagh needed to figure things out for herself, as painful as that process would be.

While waiting for the car, Shelagh began to wonder. “Patrick?” she looked up to him, and he raised an eyebrow in response. “Where exactly are we going dancing? The both of us are far too old for any of those teen dance halls.”

Patrick laughed. “While that would be quite the spectacle, I’ll be taking us to a jazz club not too far from here.”

Shelagh pondered some more. “Honestly, I’m not sure I even remember how to dance it’s been so long. Anything I know how to do will probably be out of fashion!” she giggled.

Patrick’s grin matched hers. “We’ll have to see what we can do with our four left feet.”

The valet arrived with the car then, and Patrick held Shelagh’s door for her while she slid into the seat. He wasn’t lying when he said the club wasn’t far, because within five minutes the both of them were in a dimly lit, smoky room, ordering gin and tonics from a bartender with a very odd moustache. A snappy number was playing in the background, the live music filling their ears and caressing their senses. 

Their drinks in hand, the couple made their way to a waist high table, which was still slightly too tall for Shelagh. She tried to lean her elbows on the dark wood, but she wasn’t quite tall enough for that to be comfortable, so she settled for resting her hands on it with her drink. 

It was still strange sometimes, seeing her small form. It was easy before for her to get lost in her habit and wimple, so it was surprising to him just how small she was. For so many years she was just a nun, just Sister Bernadette, and now she was a woman, and fully expressing herself, and it was so stunning.

With her hair styled down, so unlike the up-do’s she’s favored as of late, Shelagh looked so young and vibrant, Patrick pondered. The blue of her dress accented her gorgeous eyes, making them so dazzling in the low light. He sometimes had trouble understanding how such a beautiful, young, energetic woman could fall in love with him, an old, used, tired doctor. He loved her for her caring, kind, gentle nature, and her witty, vivacious, bubbly personality, too. He supposed she felt similarly. It was so hard to get used to, being with this young woman who loved him, and his son, dearly. 

“What are you thinking about so intensely?” 

Shelagh snapped him out of his reflections. “Just thinking about how I have no idea how I got so lucky,” he reached his free hand across the table to hold hers. 

She smiled lightly, squeezing his fingers, “I wonder the same thing, every time I look at you.”

The band started a new song. Swiftly, Patrick downed the last half of his drink, and moved to guide Shelagh to the dance floor, still holding her hand. “I think it’s time to dance, Miss Mannion.”

They were both truly horrible. The fast song was too much for the both of them, and their feet could not move quickly enough to keep up. As other couples spun around them, the women tossed around by their partners, flying through the air, they could barely keep their composure. For the whole song, they went back and forth between looking at their feet, and laughing at each other trying to dance. At the end of the song, they were sweating slightly, and holding on to each other’s waists while chuckling. 

“That’s about how I expected that to go!” Shelagh said, grinning. She ran her fingers through Patrick’s hair to fix it, before she realized what she was doing and removed her hand. “Oh, sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

“We’re engaged, I think you can fix my unruly hair for me,” Patrick stated, grasping the hand that moved from his hair and giving it a light kiss, sending bursts of warmth from Shelagh’s heart.

At that moment, the band began a slow ballad, the trumpet crooning to a leisurely bass, the trombone sliding through the melody. Patrick looked into Shelagh’s eyes as he firmly grasped her waist in his right hand, and supported her left hand in his. He pulled her close, with a small “Oh!” of surprise from Shelagh, and began to rock them back and forth to the slow rhythm of the music. 

Shelagh was slightly panicked at the closeness, but looking into Patrick’s eyes caused her to melt into his embrace. Her hand was resting on his chest, but she moved it up to his neck, resting her harm on his broad shoulder. Her fingers played lightly with the collar of his jacket, and they continued to look into each other’s eyes intensely. They were gently smiling, silent, just enjoying the feeling of being a couple, in public. They could hold hands, and dance, in front of all these people now, with almost no fear of scandal or God’s wrath. The night was young, they were engaged, and so, very in love. 

After a few hours of dancing on and off, Patrick needed to get Shelagh back to her lodgings before curfew. The ride back was mostly silent, with a few stolen glances and smiles. Both were a little tipsy from their two drinks each, but only enough to be a little giggly. 

Patrick parked on the street next to the large building, and turned to his fiancé. “I’ve had a wonderful night, Shelagh. I hope we can do this again soon, though I will admit it was a little hard to get a whole Saturday night off,” he smiled sadly, grasping her hand to lightly kiss her palm. 

The short touch of his lips to her hand caused Shelagh’s breath to become shallow and quick. “Of course, I understand,” she whispered, almost panting. 

They weren’t sitting very far apart on the bench seat, close enough for their legs to almost touch. 

“I’ve been thinking about something quite a lot tonight,” Patrick muttered, playing with Shelagh’s fingers on his leg. 

Staring at her fingers in his hand, Shelagh murmured, “What could that be?” Her accent was thickening with every sentence. 

Patrick looked up at Shelagh, causing their eyes to meet, wide and honest. “We’re engaged, and we’ve never really kissed before.”

Shelagh lightly chuckled, nervous. “I was a nun for such a long time, I wasn’t sure if you would want to—” 

“Of course, I want to!” Patrick exclaimed, moving closer so their legs touched and gently touching her at her waist and neck. “I love you, and I want to love you in every way, Shelagh,” Patrick professed. Quickly realizing what he’d said, he added, “Only if you’re ready, or if you want to, of course, I realize that you may have never kissed anyone, and you may not want to move too quickly—”

“I want to kiss you.”

“N—now?” Patrick questioned, surprised.

“I—I think so. I had a wonderful night, and you are a wonderful man, and—”

“Shhhh,” Patrick shushed, touching a thumb lightly to her slightly open lips. He looked at them as he leaned in, and whispered, “You are so perfect, my love.”

It was Shelagh who closed the final distance between their lips, lightly touching his leg and chest. He was gentle, pulling away slightly, allowing her to move away if she wanted, but when she didn’t he moved in again, coaxing her lips open to move them together, again and again. 

A fire was building in Shelagh, a fire that she hadn’t felt in over fifteen years, and never like this. Her skin burned where they touched, and she wanted more. Her hand on his chest moved to his hair, gently twirling the short hair on his neck. The hand on his leg began to stroke slightly, grasping the muscle a little more firmly. She sighed, content. 

Patrick was feeling almost overwhelmed with delight. Only in his dreams did he imagine he would end the night with more than a chaste kiss, and he expected to go home with nothing, and now he was snogging his fiancé in his car. He moved a hand into her hair, careful to go under and not over, so she wouldn’t look too disheveled. Her hand on his leg was causing a stirring, and he knew this would have to end soon, before mistakes were made, but he would enjoy himself while he could. 

Patrick’s hand on her waist began to wander, first to her back to pull her flush against his side, about as close as they could be in a car, and then it moved up and down, feeling the silky material of her dress. He decided to further press his luck, and prodded his tongue against her lips. Miraculously, she opened her mouth to him with a groan, and she used the hand that was stroking his leg to pull his thigh open and up against her. Shelagh turned more, one leg on the seat and one foot on the floor, almost standing. She grasped his face in both hands, her fingers running through his hair, fully mussing it up. Patrick’s hands held her waist and continued to move up and down her sides, deciding if he should venture up more. 

He made his decision when Shelagh swung her leg over both of his, straddling him while kneeling. She wrapped both of her arms around his neck, and pressed her torso into his chest, lips crashing into his repeatedly. Patrick moved his hands and fingers to gently graze the sides of her breasts, and she moaned.   
The fire in Shelagh was awake and burning bright. Her core was slick, and Patrick’s hands were leaving burning trails up and down her sides and her breasts. She dropped her bottom to his lap, and that’s when she felt just how aroused he was. Panting, they broke their kiss, and remembered where they were, and what they were doing. 

Shelagh looked down, still straddling Patrick, and blushed bright pink. Patrick tilted her chin up with one finger, kissed her chastely, and promised, “We can continue that some other day, if you like.”

“I would like that, I think,” Shelagh replied quietly, slowly removing herself from Patrick’s lap, straightening her skirt, and reaching for her borrowed coat. 

“Why don’t we make plans for two weeks from today, but know that we will probably have to reschedule?” Patrick asked, glancing at Shelagh while trying desperately not to draw attention to his erection. 

“Maybe next time we can see a picture. I haven’t seen any of them for the last ten years, I’m sure a lot’s changed,” Shelagh said, still blushing a brilliant pink all the way down to her neckline. 

“Sounds perfect,” Patrick said, kissing her hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“I love you, my wonderful Shelagh,” Patrick said, voice full of passion and adoration.

“I love you, Patrick. I love you will all my heart.”

As Shelagh left the car, padding quietly in her stockings since her shoes left her feet as soon as they left the jazz club, she barely made it in the door before her landlady enforced the curfew. Patrick, again, wondered when he fell so deeply in love with the most perfect woman, and how, exactly, she loved him just as much.


End file.
